


By the Lies That I Have Loved, and Actions I Have Hated (I'm Haunted)

by ConsultingWriter



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, BAMF Charles, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Dom/sub, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Genosha, King!Erik, M/M, One-sided Erik/Raven, Possibly More Parirings Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:56:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is the King of Genosha, Charles, the Lord of the powerful Xavier House, is keeping a secret and the last thing he wants is to catch the King's attention. Too bad fate doesn't always give us what we want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Lies that I Have Lived

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo! I major multi-chaptered story, who's excited? (I am!)   
> I know its short, but it's the prologue and I can promise the rest of the chapters will be longer!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! I major multi-chaptered story, who's excited? (I am!)  
> I know its short, but it's the prologue and I can promise the rest of the chapters will be longer!

   Broken twigs and sharp stones jutted out of the earth and tore into his flesh like the jagged edges of a broken bottle and the branches of the forest's undergrowth clawed at his face. The very land of Genosha was angry at his betrayal of its beloved king. In the distance the warning bells cried out in alarm; it was official, he was being hunted.

   He closed his eyes and pushed his body harder, faster, farther. He had to get as far as he could before they caught him, and he could hear the dogs—their excited pants, the snarls of dominance when they crossed into each other's paths—gaining.

   He came to a jerking halt when a tail snaked around his waist. It was red. Azazel. He cursed, but stilled, it would do him no good to struggle.

   The man tsked, "His majesty will be impressed with how far you got, but I think it's time to return you to him."

   With a muffled rush they were standing once again in the courtyard. He glanced up at the castle's bell tower and closed his eyes in relief. It was past three. He'd done it.

   "Well, this was a surprise, wasn't it?" the king's voice echoed down from up the steps. The king was a tall man, with broad shoulders and a slim waist; he cut an imposing silhouette against the light that spilled out the castle’s open doors.

   His helmet was firmly in place and his face was the picture of calm; his eyes, however, told a different story. They burned with a hateful rage.

   "I think, my dear Charles, that it's time we had a talk, don't you?" the king turned away then, not sparing another glance in Charles's direction; Charles felt the snub like a poisoned lance to the side and a burning pain raced through his body in accordance, "Take him to the dungeons."

   Charles bowed his head, "Erik," he whispered "I'm so sorry, my love."

   The still air carried his words nowhere and they hung in the dark night, unheard by any except for Charles.


	2. Actions I Have Needed

   Charles brushed his hair out of his eyes and clapped his hands as Hank continued his cartwheels. His boys were getting better at faking it. Hank wore shoes three sizes too big and worked on flexibility and endurance, Sean wore a comfortable regulating collar around his throat and was learning several styles of sign language, and Alex wore restrictor cuffs and was developing a cold, distant façade.

   It pained him to teach them to hide, but he knew this was better than the alternatives: subjugation or deportation. At least here, at Xavier’s Academy (for the dangerous and uncontrollable, was never said aloud, but it was always tacked on with a look of implication), they could visit their families and have the support of those like them. It was illegal, but Charles was willing to risk it for these three boys and those like them.  

   Hank steadied himself and turned to look at him with wide eyes, at ten years old he hadn’t quiet grown into that teenaged rebellion phase that a thirteen year old Alex was starting—with Sean not far behind—to fall into and as such, he still looked to Charles for approval. Charles gave the boy a warm smile; he would miss it when his boys were too old to look to him for support and guidance.

   “Alright, Hank,” he called, glancing at his watch, “time for dinner, I should think.”

    It was Alex’s turn to cook, which meant that they were most likely dinning on a strange combination of boxed Mac ‘n Cheese—or another version of pasta, but most likely macaroni—and whatever meat they had readily available in the refrigerator. Charles didn’t mind, and the boys looked forward to Alex’s Noodle Nights.

    Hank straightened up, wiped the sweat from his face, and gave Charles a nod before starting his cool down stretches.

   Casting his eyes around the large lawn, Charles found Sean settled under a tree off to the side with his head tilted back, eyes closed and book flopped halfway off his propped knees. He chuckled to himself and pushed up off the stairs to go wake the poor boy. All three of them were working hard, and Charles was relieved to know they understood the importance of learning to hide in plain sight on Genosha. One day he’d be able to get all three of them and their families access to America or one of the European countries, but until then they needed to survive Genoshan society, and to do that they had to lie.

   The law proclaiming humans inferior, and therefor unfit for Genosha, passed in the early 1900s under the reign of King Sebastian Shaw—who had been the last of his line to rule before the mighty line of Lehnsherr took the throne—and humans had been ostracized, deported, and persecuted ever since. The Xavier family had a proud, if secret, history of spiriting any humans they found off the island and to more human friendly countries.

   He nudged Sean awake with a gentle ruffle of his ginger hair “Up,” he commanded lightly “and to wash your hands with you, dinner should be ready for us by the time we get in.”

   The boy nodded sleepily, but closed his book and heaved himself up the ground. He dusted the back of his pants and shuffled his way towards the manor, not pausing to see if Charles was following.

   The man chuckled and trailed after, but paused when he heard his gyrfalcon, Professor, screeching out. He frowned and picked up his pace, knowing the falcon would follow. Someone was coming up the drive, an unexpected visitor.

   Charles carefully peaked through the main door’s peephole and almost sagged in relief, it was only Raven. He tensed again almost immediately, the parliament season wasn’t up yet and as the stand in for the House of Xavier, she should’ve still been in the capital, not traversing the country out to Graymalkin.

   She stepped out of the carriage, as blue and as radiant as ever and dressed in the latest city fashions, and threw him a wide smile.

   “Oh Charles!” She cried, paying no heed to her human footman, Charles frowned at her and cast the footman an apologetic look, “I have the most wonderful news!”

   Charles caught her in a hug, and used his hands to instruct the footman and coach driver to circle the carriage to the side.

   He squeezed his sister tightly for a brief moment before releasing her, “Now, what is this most wonderful news?”

   Her smile stretched so wide he worried it might irreparably damage her face “The King wishes to meet you!”

   Charles froze, “What?” He managed.

   “King Lehnsherr wants to meet you, the elusive head of the Xavier House!” She caught him up in a hug again “I think he might ask permission to court me!”

   He forced a smile to stretch his frozen lips. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t meet the king. Breaking the law from his home in Westchester was one thing, but facing the king and his court was quite another.

                                                                                                  

 


	3. I'm Haunted

            When he and Raven passed Moira in the hall, Charles gave her the signal—the one that said, ‘keep the boys in the danger room’—and she gave a curtesy—the sign that she’d received his message—and headed on her way to the kitchen.

            Charles hoped that there’d be something left from dinner by the time he finished talking to Raven and went down to the kitchens for food later.

            They settled in the main sitting room—the one that had been his mother’s favorite, and even now her portrait hung over the ancient fireplace—and Raven fell into one of the chairs in an un-lady like sprawl.

            “I don’t know why you keep her around Charles; she’s just a human,” she looked at him with a leer, “Unless you’re getting something out of it too? A little action, hm?”

            Charles frowned at her “That’s disgusting Raven, human or not Moira is a perfectly acceptable maid and I appreciate her help keeping the house running. I’m not firing her just because of your views on non-mutants.”

            It had been a point of contention between them for years, ever since Raven had laid eyes on the then-Prince Erik Lehnsherr and had immediately subscribed to his rhetoric.

            She opens her mouth to say something but simply frowns and rolls her eyes instead.

            Charles settled into the chair across from her and propped his head on a closed fist “Now, dear, let’s hear more about this invitation.”

            Raven reached up a hand, unfocused eyes gazing towards the unlit fireplace, and stroked gently at her bare throat. Charles’s own throat ached with sympathetic want. He knew she deeply wanted to be bonded to a Dominant, but Raven was deeply suspicious of most Dom’s and needed someone who would let her be her own person. Charles felt his own want roll beneath his skin but pushed it away, he knew that having a Dom wasn’t in the cards for him. No one could ever know what he was, not if he wanted to keep the Xavier mansion his, not if he wanted to help his boys.

            “King Erik has formally invited you to spend the week of Christmas at the castle,” she opened her handbag and carefully held out the thick magenta envelope. It had the Lehnsherr seal on it and Charles lifted it from her hands.

            He stood and moved towards his desk to find his letter opener. The envelope’s seam came apart with a simple flick of the wrist. The invitation was straight forward, almost a summons, and unavoidable. He would have to go.

            Holding back a sigh he turned back to his sister, “Of course, I’d be delighted to go, I’ll write a response immediately, shall I?”

            Her eyes widened in delight and a smile stretched across her face “Really Charles? Oh tell me you aren’t joking!”

            A smile of his own twitched across his lips, as different as they were he couldn’t help but enjoy the chance to make his sister happy “Of course, I suppose we’ll need to go shopping for the other guests, then?”

            Mentally, he started a list of possible guests and appropriate presents for each.

            The invitation had stated that the week of Christmas would be spent with a small gathering of the King’s closest friends, but that the annual Christmas ball would be held the Saturday before and that as a lord he was, of course, invited to attend that as well.

            Raven clapped her hands “It will only be Lady Emma, and Lords Azazel and Janos, I’m sure, perhaps one or two more, oh Charles, this is so exciting!”

            It almost hurt his cheeks to force his smile but he did for Raven; it would be easier finding presents for a handful of people versus the entirety of the court anyway, so at least he didn’t have to deal with that.

            He settled down at his desk and pulled a neat sheet of paper out of his drawer.

            Raven huffed “Charles, I’ve just come all this way to see you and you go straight back to work? You’re so cruel to your sister.”

            Charles rolled his eyes at the affected pout in Raven’s voice “I’m writing a response to the king to send off immediately, unless you would keep our king waiting, dear sister?”

            The way she perked up was a real response instead of playful teasing like her pouting had been, “Oh, well we wouldn’t want to keep the king waiting, you may proceed,” she flipped her hair over her shoulders as she waved a hand magnanimously in an attempt to hide her absolute excitement.

            “Well, if I have my lady’s permission,” he teased gently and let out a small chuckle when she huffed in return.

            Less than half an hour later Raven excused herself to her bedroom, leaving Charles with a kiss on the cheek, telling him that she would see him for breakfast.

            When the door shut behind her Charles sagged in his chair and buried his face in his hands, this was not good at all. The king’s invitation had been more of a demand then a request and he was unsure of why the king seemed to suddenly be so interested in his presence.

            Surely Raven was right and the king was using the opportunity to ask Charles—as head of the Xavier House—formal permission to court Raven. Something in his gut told him that wasn’t the case, but he ignored it and quickly wrote out a polite acceptance letter.

            On his way down to the kitchens he stopped by Moira’s room, rapped twice on the door and waited for permission to enter.

            When she called out for him to enter he did so swiftly, shut the door firmly behind him, and then used the sturdy wood to support his weight as he leaned on it. Moira was bent over her own small writing desk, clearly doing some writing of her own.

            “We have a problem,” was the first thing out of his mouth; Moira immediately straightened, smoothed the skirt of her dress out, and turned her full attention to him.

            “The king has invited me to spend the week of Christmas with him and—according to Raven—the rest of his court favorites.”

            “That is a problem,” Moira responded, hands clenching at her skirt, “What are we going to do?”

            “For now?” He turned his head away and stared out her window at the fading sunlight, considering the question carefully, “Nothing, I’ll go and you’ll keep the boys here,” he turned back to her “but pull the phones out, I’ll take one and you keep the other on you at all times, if I call you take the Blackbird and go.”

            Moira nodded and Charles turned to look out the window once more. His eyes immediately found the patch of land that covered one of Graymalkin’s greatest secret. The hanger.

            Genosha, in an attempt to distance itself from the ever evolving human world, remained decidedly static in many fashions. It turned away from modern technologies and only used human developed medications in the most dire of circumstances, and even then there was a limited supply and only the wealthy could afford modern medical treatments. The clothing styles resembled those from the Victorian era, the political system was a ruling monarchy with a court of Lords and Ladies, and the only modes of transportations available were horse drawn carriage or airships.

            The Blackbird, in contrast, was state-of-the-art, even compared to the human world’s standards, and both Charles and Moira knew how to fly it. The plane had been built by a mutant in America whose family had escaped from Genosha with the Xavier family’s help and was used to help other families escape as well.

            After a few minutes he pushed himself away from the door and covered his gurgling stomach with his hand; he’d skipped lunch and his body was showing its displeasure.

            He gave Moira a quick nodded and headed down to the kitchen. He froze in the doorway at what he saw.

            Raven and all three of the boys were seated at the table, his sister chatting happily while the boys glanced warily at her and shot each other helpless looks. A glass of milk sat in front of each of them.

            Charles cleared his throat, eyebrow raised, “What do we have here?”

            The boys turned their wide eyes to him and he knew that Raven must’ve stumbled upon them in the ‘danger room’—the room was really a concrete bunker that had been refitted, it now housed a small indoor ‘training area’ (it was actually an indoor playground to keep the boys entertained during the rainy season, but it was justified to Raven and other visitors as being a training area to help young mutants control their powers).

            “Charles! Look at the naughty boys I caught skulking around the danger room, you’d think that they’d know that they ought to be getting ready for bed!” Raven fluttered back over to the boys, hands smoothing down their hair and checking their glasses to see if they need more milk.

            “They’ve worked hard this week,” he scrambled for an answer “Moira and I thought it would be a nice break to let them play around for a little longer tonight.”

            She stroked Hank’s hair out of his face and shot Charles a frown “You mustn’t spoil children like that Charles, or they’ll grow up without of sense of moderation.”

            Charles mentally frowned and cursed himself; it was obvious once he started looking at the signs, the excitement over Charles accepting the king’s invitation, the reason she was wandering about the mansion instead of in her bedroom like she said she’d be, the way she corralled the boys into the kitchen to feed them, the way she stroked their hair. She was starting to settle, her hopes for the king courting her were very real. Suddenly Charles was very afraid; for himself, for his boys, for his sister.

            Raven had always been a free spirit, and as much as she wanted King Erik as her Dominant, he wasn’t sure how she would handle the pressures and restraints that being the queen would place on her restless spirit.

           He cleared his throat and tried to slide himself between the boys and his sister’s wandering hands, “While that may be true, I do think it’s time for the boys to wash up and head off to bed.”

            He brushed his own hands through the boys’ hair in an attempt at comfort—even Alex leans in to the soft touch—and pushed them gently towards the stairs that led to their rooms on the opposite side of the house as Raven’s room and closer to his and Moira’s rooms.

            The boys stack their glasses in the sink and march off to their set of bathrooms like a line of ducklings and Charles moved over to the sink, rolling up his leaves and turning the tap on. He rinsed the glasses and soaped them with a fresh sponge, taking his time to coat the glass inside and out with the ‘spring fresh’ suds.

            “Don’t you have a maid for that?” Raven quipped from her spot at the table.

            “Why make her do things when I’m right here and can do them myself?”

            She snorted but let the matter drop, content to sit and watch Charles do housework.

            After he finished drying the glasses he set them back in the cabinet and gave Raven a kiss on the cheek goodnight and headed to his own room for the night.

            Before going to his own bedroom he paused at each of the boys’ rooms, pressed his ear to the door, and listened to make sure they’d all gone to bed. Sean and Hank’s rooms were silent and no light peeped through the doors, but when he pressed an ear to Alex’s he could hear the faint hum of a snore and chuckled.

            Finally he finished his rounds and settled into his own set of rooms for the evening. He changed methodically, thinking over his day and what would happen in the upcoming weeks.        

            Presents would need to be bought not only for Moira, the boys, and Raven, but for the king’s court as well. A new suit of the latest fashion would have to be bought and fitted, he’d need to brush up on his dancing and current topics of conversation, and he’d have to run into town and stock up on food and other necessities for the house.

            Charles ran a hand over his face tiredly and sighed. He hadn’t been to court since he was a child and his mother had been Lady of the house, a strong woman with a cool head on her shoulders, Lady Sharon Xavier had been someone that the other houses feared and respected. Charles, in comparison, was seen as an idle, foolish, boy who fostered his responsibility on his younger sister—and a sub no less, some mumbled with disgust under while others applauded him for his sense of equality in letting his brilliant sister, submissive or no, take his place—an genius but a recluse who shut himself away from the world.

            He rubbed at his eyes and sighed again. A week in the presence of some of the smartest people in the country and the king—who was rumored to have no lack of intelligence in his own right and a brilliant tactician—Charles wasn’t sure if he was going to make it into January with his secrets intact.

            The thought made him feel sick, the thought of handing Moira and the boys over because of his own failings was one that he couldn’t bear.

            His hands curled into fists. He would make it through the week at the castle and no one would be none-the-wiser that he wasn’t what he claimed to be.


	4. By the Lies That I Have Loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if Raven seems like a bit of a bitch, but she's totally drinking the 'humans are inferior' cool aid that Erik's passing out and she's been raised in a society that is against humans, so.

 

           Charles tucked the boys’ presents under the tree and settled Moira’s on top of the fire place’s mantle so that it wouldn’t get trampled in the excitement of Christmas morning. He did a last minute check of his bags, brought a hand up to touch the restrictor pins—his pair was an heavy duty set of women’s hair pins with the Xavier crest on a ¼ inch circle that held psych restrictors to prevent the use of psychic powers, both pins held back his bangs out of his face and pinned the strands to the left side in traditional Xavier Family fashion—making sure they were in place, and counted the gifts he separated from the boys’ pile and set on the couch one last time.

            Raven was packed and standing in the foyer, packed bags around her feet, gently pressing last minute fussing on the boys. Her hands flittered through their hair, wiped invisible smudges from their faces, and straightened their shirt collars over and over.

            Charles swallowed down a growl, teeth clicking together as he snapped his mouth shut; he knew that it was just her instincts trying to settle, readying for a Dom, but watching her forced his instincts to charge. They were _his_ boys. He would never have a Dom, but he would have his children and no one, not even his beloved sister, would take them from him.

            He quickly arranged the presents to his liking and hurried over to the foyer. Trying to avoid Moira’s amused stare as he did. He came up behind the boys and brushed his hands over each of their backs in a subtle display of possessiveness. Raven cocked her head, blinked, and then backed away, confusion lighting in her eyes. He breathed in deeply and gave her a grin, hoping she’d tack it up to what she’d been told about his mutation. Doms weren’t nearly as possessive over their children as subs were, he knew, but it was the one submissive instinct physically couldn’t force down.

            “Give us a hug and then away with you, I know for a fact you’ve all got homework to do,” he gives them a faux-stern stare “and don’t think you’ll get away with not doing it or goofing off, because I will know and boys who don’t do their work don’t get Christmas gifts.”

            They rushed to hug him, each clinging tightly to whatever part they could reach—Alex and Sean wrapped tightly around each of his thighs while Hank, who was growing taller and taller each day, was wrapped around his waist. He’d never left home for more than a day since he’d taken them into his home and he knew they weren’t sure how to handle it; he’d been their mother, father, and teacher since they were toddlers. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it when they left.

            Dismissing the thought he bent down and squeezed each of them tightly before shoo-ing them to the kitchen, where Moira was waiting with breakfast.

            “I think that’s everything, are you ready my dear?” He asked, turning to Raven who flashed him a bright smile.

            “Naturally,” he grin turned mischievous “the question, dear brother, is are you? You’ve been out here with no one to keep company with but three children and a _human,_ you might not be able to keep up with all the civilized conversation of the city.”

            He frowned at the jab at Moira and then lifted his chin “I think I’ll be able to handle whatever noble talk the gossip mongers can throw at me,” he shot back.

            His answer annoyed her, he could tell, and for a moment he felt a sense of empty satisfaction before he pushed it away, feeling petty. He offered her a small smile of truce, which she accepted with a smile of her own.

            She opened the door and waved the coachmen in while Charles gathered the presents. While the two men gathered the siblings bags, Raven climbed into the carriage unaided with a ladylike grace that caused Charles’s breath to catch; it was hard to remember sometimes that his little sister was a woman, and not only that, but a Lady of the Xavier house and a strong figure in the Genoshan courts. His mother would have been proud. He was proud.

            Carefully he handed her the presents while the coachmen loaded their bags before he turned and gave the mansion one last look. They needed to go before he changed his mind. With that he climbed into the carriage and seated himself across from his sister, giving the coachmen a nod as he closed the door behind him.

            “You’re going to like him,” Raven said idly, looking out the window at the passing trees. Charles tucked a thin slip of paper in between the pages and closed the book he was reading.

            “I’ll like who?” He asked, tucking the book into the pocket of his overcoat..

            “The king, the two of you could find a great many things to talk about, I’m sure of it.”

            Charles lifted his lips in a grin “But would we agree on any of it?”

            She rolled her eyes “Surely you would, he’s a king after all.”

            As if his title meant he was automatically correct in all things. Charles forced back a frown. Perhaps Raven was spending too much time around the thoughtless socialites that swarmed the king’s court and castle if she was prescribing to that sort of attitude.

            “Wearing a crown does not exclude you from being wrong any more than having a title does my dear, and might I remind you that you tell me I’m wrong quite often.”

            She looked at him for a moment before shaking her head “Oh Charles,” she sighed, as if her were a child “you’ll understand when you met him, I’m sure.”

            He lifted an eyebrow at her tone, but said nothing. _Yes_ , he thought to himself, _I’m sure I will understand quite a lot once I meet him._

 

* * *

 

   

         The castle hadn’t changed at all; Charles observed as they pulled into the circular drive, it was just as he remembered it, down to the very last rosebush and fruit tree. What had changed, however, was the tall figure standing ramrod straight, hands clasped behind their back and feet shoulder width apart in a solid, powerful stance. King Erik had been a Prince and a young teen when Charles had last seen him, thin as a reed and tall as a beanstalk with sharp features that he’d eventually grow into; he’d attended Lady Sharon’s death with the Queen and had stood only feet away from Charles at the time, a silent but strong pillar of support for Charles. He’d been alone at the time, Raven had been too young to attend and they had no other family he’d felt comfortable enough around to stand with, and he’d leaned, if only in his mind, on the power the Lehnsherr’s exuded.

He couldn’t explain it, not at the time or now, but he’d taken comfort in the Prince’s silent strength. After the funeral Queen Edie had given him a tight hug and a soft kiss on the cheek, whispering for him to be strong. The Prince had followed her example with the ease and grace of a true leader; he had caught Charles’s hands in his own, gave them a firm squeeze and then leaned down to place an equally firm kiss on the opposite cheek.

            Both sets of lips had been warm, and Charles had carried that warmth with him through the following months, years, as a source of strength and confidence as he continued on, a child in charge of one of the oldest houses in Genosha.

            From that moment, Charles had supported King Erik’s reign from the shadows, always careful to keep himself out of the spot light, with an unwavering trust. Even when Charles didn’t agree with the king’s policies or stances, he knew that the older man was only doing what he thought best for his country and his people; something that the very land of Genosha itself loved its king for.

            As the carriage started to slow, Charles could practically feel his sister vibrating in her seat with excitement. He himself felt nothing of the sort. His stomach felt heavy and his mouth felt dry.

            The door opened with a soft click and Charles scooted himself as far back into the seat as he could push himself so that Raven could slide out comfortably.

            He was shocked when the king himself strode down the stairs and lifted a hand to help his sister down the carriage’s step and to the ground. He watched the king’s soft smile with a sense of unease, if the king asked for permission to court Raven he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , say no but he knew this wasn’t right for his sister, no matter what she thought. He kept his thoughts to himself as he moved to slide out after Raven, only to feel a mixture of alarm, confusion, and heat as the king offered him a hand as well.

            The feeling bubbled in his stomach and raced through his veins, he pulled his hand away as soon as was polite, and took as small step away from the king.

            Amusement flashed through the other man’s eyes but he let Charles retreat without fuss.

            “Raven,” the king purred, “You never told me your older brother was so….” He trailed off and let his eyes roam over Charles, “short,” he finished.

            Raven snorted “What he lacks in height he makes up for with ego, I can promise you that, your Majesty.”

            The king turned to her and Charles stuck his tongue out at her.

            “Now Miss Xavier, I believe I’ve told you time and time again to drop the formalities when we aren’t in court, yes?”

            Charles watched as a delicate blush dusted his sister’s cheeks, “Of course, Erik,” she curtsied.

            “And you, Mr. Xavier, I believe it’s time that we be reintroduced,” his hand twitched up, as if to touch Charles, but it didn’t. Instead he crooked his arm at the elbow and brought it to his waist and gave a slight bow.

            “Erik Lehnsherr, at your service, and I hope that you will enjoy your stay at my home over the holidays.”

            Charles returned his gesture with a deeper bow “I am sure I will, your Majesty.”

            The king grinned, and his hand twitched toward Charles again, making him feel uneasy once again. He shrugged the feeling away and matched the king grin for grin.

            “I hope we shall become friends,” Charles offered.

            “I’m sure we will,” the King hummed, before looking Charles over and mumbling, almost to himself, “I am sure we will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can contact me at NoSwordsForLittleDragons.tumblr.com


	5. Actions I That Have Scared Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. I know its not long but I wanted to get this posted before I go back to college for the semester.  
> And I promise that this IS going somewhere and things are about to pick up soon.

            With a smirk and a wink aimed at both Charles and Raven, the king disappeared into the castle. Raven fidgeted with her skirt and cleared her throat.

            “So?” She asked, turning to look at Charles, “What do you think?”

            Charles cocked his head to the side and turned the question over in his mind. He thought the King was a good leader. He thought the King could be dangerous. He thought the King was up to something.

            “He seems lovely,” Charles said instead, giving his sister a half smile.

            The King was definitely up to something; Charles just hoped that it didn’t involve him.

            Raven flashed him a smile as they were led into the castle and to their rooms. They’d been given rooms across the hall from each other and Charles sighed in relief once his door was closed. His sister being so close was something of a comfort for him, especially since he was in such an unfamiliar place.

            Once the last of his bags was brought up, the butler gave a bow and informed Charles that dinner would be served at seven and that he was free to stay in his rooms or he could be shown to the library, where the other guests had already started to gather. Charles thanked the other and asked to be shown to the library; there was no point in staying cooped up in his room alone his thoughts.

            The library was glorious and a sedate happiness bubbled in his stomach as a familiar laughter chimed through the room. Emma Frost, his childhood friend and the keeper of all his secrets.

            “Oh, Sugar,” she cooed wickedly when he came around one of the bookshelves “I never thought you’d show that beautiful face in these halls.”

            Heat crept up his neck and the blush deepened when the king, who he’d only then noticed perched in a magnificent deep purple chair by the fire, let out a chuckle.

            “Behave Emma,” his deep voice rumbled out in a friendly warning “Mr. Xavier is here as my guest for the festivities and I won’t have you harassing him.”

            Emma gave him a leer, and Charles avoided the darkness hiding behind it, “Oh how fortunate, I was worried I was going to have to trek all the way out to Graymalkin again.”

            Every two years Emma would make her way through Westchester district and out to Graymalkin, loaded down with presents for the boys, the latest gossip for Moira, and mounds of papers and files and warnings for Charles.

            Charles rolled his eyes “You know you’re charmed by the country dear, you can’t lie to me.”

            The king’s sharp eyes turned to him then, “Ah yes, your mutation,” those eyes locked on to his restrictor pins.

            “Well, no,” a hand came up to touch one of the pins in subconscious discomfort, “I mean, yes, I am an empath, but I just know Emma too well for her to lie to me, we’ve been friends since we were babies, after all,” he said casually, trying to deflect the kings attention away from talk of his mutation.

            “Really?” the King asked. He appeared to be sufficiently distracted and Charles mentally sighed a breath of relief.

            “Hm, yes,” Emma chimmed in “He was such a little brat.”

            Charles pulled a face and Emma lifted a brow in retaliation “I remember someone throwing a tantrum because her birthday cake didn’t have white icing.”

            Emma lifted her nose and started to reply, but someone else in the room beat her to it.

            “My, my,” the voice said and when Charles turned around to look and blinked in mild shock. The man was completely red and had a tail that was draped casually over his lap while he sat in a chair farther away from the fire. “It seems like your childhood was more exciting than you let on,” it was directed at Emma, who shrugged.

            “It’s not my fault if you speculate without all the facts,” if she were human she would’ve made a fantastic lawyer, Charles knew. They didn’t have such things on Genosha; any crime was presented to a triad of telepathic or empathic judges and dealt with in a swift manor.

            “I think I would like to hear more,” the man said, turning to Charles “but forgive my manners, I am Azazel.”

            The man held his hand out to Charles, who promptly shook it with a flash of a smile.

            “Charles Xavier, pleasure to meet you.”

            “The pleasure is all his, Sugar, I can assure you,” Emma snickered, draping a falsely delicate arm around his shoulders.

            The man, Azazel, shot Charles a smooth, teasing grin, “I assure you, it’s true.”

            Right. Charles shifted away as discretely as he could. He wasn’t sure what was going on with these people, but he knew he didn’t like it.

            “How,” he paused for only a beat, but he knew the rest of the guests heard it “nice, it’s been awhile since I’ve been around this many adults.”

            “Ah yes,” Emma purred, allowing the change of conversation “how are you’re darling ducklings? Still following you around Graymalkin?”

            Charles sighed wistfully at the memories Emma was referring to, he used to spend his days moving around the mansion with a line of boys constantly following behind. He could’ve never guessed how much he’d miss it.

            “Growing up too fast, the pre-teen years have been fairly smooth sailing so far, but I’ve already braced myself for a hurricane or two during their teenaged years, Alex is already starting to enter his teenaged rebellion phase.”

            Emma lifted an eyebrow in a silent demand that he go on, and the rest of the room’s inhabitants seemed just as interested.

            “The other day Alex refused to sit down for our reading hour and then when I asked why he didn’t want to he told me that I was ‘just too old to understand’ how he felt,” he used air quotes, still a little offended at being called old. At twenty-seven Charles knew he was anything but old, no matter how ancient he felt sometimes.

            The king hummed in amusement, looking Charles over once more. This time there was something slightly calculating behind his eyes and Charles was instantly wary of the king’s next words.

            “You’re sister mentioned something about you running a school, are the boys students of yours?”

            “Ah, yes, well, I don’t know if I would classify it as a school, I only have three students,” he said, trying to stay flippant under the king’s gaze.

            “Hm, and how long have they been your students?”

            Charles’s mind stuttered for a moment, unable to work out why the king was so curious, he answered anyway “Since they were children, Hank has been in my care since he was three or so, and Alex and Sean both came within the following three years.”

            They’d been with him ever since he’d known they weren’t mutants. It was a well-guarded secret that telepaths could tell a human’s mind from a mutant’s, they simply felt different.

            “So they’ve grown up as part of your house, hm?” The king asked, and Charles thought over his answer carefully, unsure of what to say but before he could formulate an answer the other man continued “Have you taught them how to dance and act in court?”

            He had as a part of their training to blend in, the dancing was also a good way to keep the boys active during the rainy season or when it was simply too cold for outside activities. He told the king so.

            A slow smile stretched across the other’s face “Good, good, perhaps you could bring them up during the Genoshian New Year’s celebration.”

            Charles felt his breath catch, that was a spectacularly terrible idea, and not just because their secret could be exposed but because he knew that the boys would never be able to behave well enough to be anywhere near the king or his court.

            Before he could tell him so, however, Emma interrupted with an unlady-like snort “I would take back that invitation if I were you, Erik, those three boys might be Charles’s ducklings, but they’re hell on wheels for everyone else, remind me to tell you about the time they threw my luggage in the koi pound.”

            Raven interrupted then, an annoyed look stretched across her face. Charles’s eyes danced between her and Emma and his chest tightened. Emma’s face had tightened around the eyes and her smile had hardened and Charles felt sick. They were fighting over Erik and he knew he was going to be expected to pick a side. He loved Raven and wanted her happiness over even his own but he owed Emma more than Raven could ever comprehend, both he and his boys did and he couldn’t turn his back on that.

            He resisted the urge to groan or rub his head in frustration. These thoughts added to the fact that he knew that being the king’s sub would make Raven miserable, Charles knew that he would have to support Emma in her courtship of the king.

            “If I remember correctly,” Raven chimed, pulling Charles out of his thoughts “they thought that you were, hm, how did they phrase it,” she trailed off and squinted their eyes in thought “Ah, yes, ‘being mean to their Charles’ so they decided that you needed to be punished.”

            The rest of the room chuckled, trying to image what Emma’s face must’ve looked like when she found her pristine white clothes floating in pound water.

            Charles gave in to the impulse to rub his face “My boys are perfectly well behaved, thank you very much Ms. Frost,” he couldn’t help but defend his boys from Emma’s slander.

            The king looked triumphant and Charles froze, realizing what he’d just done.

            “Excellent,” the other man said, leaning back into his chair “Then I shall expect you for the New Year.”

            Charles wanted to collapse. Fuck. Even if he managed to get out of the week with his secrets intact, he would never get out of the palace with the boys without someone finding out. He just knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, and you can contact me on tumblr at   
> NoSwordsForLittleDragons.tumblr.com


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